


Carnifex Maximus

by marie-bernard (Kayce)



Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-04
Updated: 2011-08-04
Packaged: 2017-10-22 05:32:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/234376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kayce/pseuds/marie-bernard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles is a sadist, Nathan likes it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Carnifex Maximus

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own Metalocalypse.

**Sick Sad Strange Mad**

Charles kept him waiting when he'd fucked up.

It had been that way since the first time Nathan had stood in this spot, the chain around his wrists connected to the ceiling high above him and more chains running from his ankles to the eye-bolts spread far apart in the floor. That was the only time he'd been left waiting alone and he'd been almost sick with remorse and trepidation. He always regretted upsetting Charles and worried about what would be done to him, but the first time he'd been more worried that when his manager was finished ( _hitting?hurting?beating?_ ) doing whatever he'd planned that he'd make Nathan leave and then go back to being only the manager and nothing more.

Now they waited together until Charles was ready and Nathan's mind inevitably drifted back to that first time, how his shoulders and back had ached from the strain, how scared he'd been of being dismissed and shut out forever.

When the CFO had finally walked into the bedroom he hadn't been able to stop the flood of disjointed apologies and promises, even though he'd been cringing from how inarticulate they made him sound. Charles hadn't even looked at him while he removed his jacket and his tie, then draped them over a nearby armchair and began rolling up his shirt sleeves. As despair washed over him he'd begged the smaller man not to hate him for fucking up and being stupid ( _being himself_ ) It wasn't until Charles had gone to the closet and removed a belt, thicker and with a larger buckle than he usually wore, that he'd spoken to Nathan.

"If I didn't care about you anymore, why would I bother?"

Being acknowledged after he'd been babbling uninterrupted for so long had startled him into silence and a familiar weight of tongue-tied uncertainty had kept him mute. When it'd become obvious that Charles was not only expecting an answer but growing impatient with him Nathan had replied, hoping desperately that he wasn't fucking up again.

"You…wouldn't?"

He'd sighed with relief when he saw that it'd been the correct response, or at least good enough to make his manager smile at him while he wrapped the tongue of the belt around his fist and came closer. Charles had stroked his free hand down Nathan's chest and stopped to rub the embarrassing place where his stomach curved out under his belly button.

"That's right. If I hated you I'd send you away, but instead I'm doing this. Because I love you."

Then the pain had started.

A movement from the bed caught his attention and broke his reverie. Charles sat up and flicked off the news program he'd been watching then swung his legs over the side and stood up. When their eyes met Charles smiled at him. It wasn't the angry or malicious smile some people had the misfortune of seeing - usually just once, it was pure and loving and reserved only for Nathan. It was time again.

  
 **Love, Disgust, Lust and Desire**

He was feeling simultaneously hyper aware and loosely relaxed as he lounged in the armchair that he'd pulled to the almost-center of the room. The true center of this small universe was Nathan Explosion; Charles was only an object in his orbit, albeit an object with an impressive gravitational pull. With his arms sprawled out and one heel hitched in the seat of the chair he looked more like a punk kid with bad posture than the CFO of a multinational corporation; he smiled at his reflection in one of the floor-length mirrors behind Nathan, that was definitely the smile of a teenage thug who'd just committed a smash-and-grab and was sure he'd gotten away with it. His attention was inexorably drawn back to the larger man chained to his ceiling.

"You're very pretty."

His smile only grew when Nathan flushed and looked away; he hated 'girly' compliments.

"I know you feel embarrassed; you think you've let yourself go or gotten flabby, but it's nice."

He felt his heart warming when Nathan looked at him again, obviously checking to make sure he wasn't being made fun of even though he should have known better. Charles found his unassuagable self-doubt one of the most appealing things about him so he continued with the compliments.

"I'm glad you're bigger; I don't have to be as careful, don't have to worry so much about damaging you. I promise you, I wouldn't care about you the way I do if you were…delicate."

The singer rolled his eyes and chuffed a tiny bit at that, but when Charles cleared his throat to signal that a reply was necessary his voice was sincere and appreciative.

"Thank you, Charles. I'm glad you…like it."

"It?"

"I'm glad you like…the way I look."

His shudder was barely perceptible and it made Charles feel warm again; when he was in this position Nathan would rather be stared at or just beaten, he hated being made to speak, even more so that Charles demanded he use complete sentences with fully articulated phrasing. The CFO affected a disappointed air and sighed.

"Why must I keep punishing you, Nathan? Haven't you been through this enough? It seems to me that a smarter man would have learned his lesson by now."

"I know. I'm sorry, Charles. I swear, I'm so fucking sorry. I don't know…why. I don't know why I keep fucking up."

"Quiet. I don't want to hear any more."

He looked so ashamed of himself, Charles decided to take pity on him and let him stay silent. Or at least wordless for a while.

Poor Nathan had stopped earning this punishment through his actions, if not his stupidity, quite some time ago. He never slept around anymore, but fortunately for both of them he still liked to go out and get wasted with the other guys when they were on the road. That made it easy for Charles to send one of his select female Klokateers to find him at their watering-hole then put the drug into his glass and drag him back to his hotel room to plant the 'evidence' before slipping out to report to her boss. When Nathan found the women's underwear or the seemingly used condoms the next day he always confessed his transgression. Sometimes it didn't involve even that much of a set up, twice now when Charles had been called to clean up one of Toki's messes he'd found Nathan passed out alone on the tour bus and simply made up the female who'd supposedly been with him when Charles had arrived.

He wondered sometimes about what was going to happen when he told Nathan; would he want to keep up the charades to have an excuse, or would they drop the entire pretense and play these games just because they wanted to?

The CFO let his mind drift to the disposable scalpel he was going to use to cut into Nathan's back tonight. He'd once used Nathan's own hunting knife to carve the word 'slut' into his skin and while that was the surface truth of why he was hurting Nathan it had left him unsatisfied; there'd been no finesse in the punishment. Just thinking about the intricate curves and tightly wound spirals he could make with the scalpel was enough to send heat rushing to his groin. Artistry, blood and pain - it almost sounded like one of Nathan's song titles. He had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing out loud; wouldn't everyone be surprised if they knew that underneath his suit and tie Charles Foster Offdensen was fucking metal?

  
 **Real Love, I Mean True Love**

It was the metal gag bit tonight, Nathan knew exactly what was coming when he walked in the room and Charles told him to get on his knees. He'd once complained to Charles that he didn't like it because it tasted like blood in his mouth, which was a lie, so now they did this first. Charles had told him he'd probably have hurt him like this anyway, but there was no use letting a teaching moment go to waste. There never was with Charlie. He felt the soft fingers caressing his face, gently working into his hair and remembered his lesson.

…..

 _"Don't tense your neck, you could hurt yourself. You'll pull a muscle, or worse, if you're too tense."_

 _He'd already been told what was going to happen though and it was hard to let himself relax. He wasn't accustomed to any deviations when he was with Charles; it surprised him when his manager dropped to his knees in front of him and started to kiss him and massage his scalp. Nathan reached out to put his arms around the smaller man, but before he could make contact he heard Charles clearing his throat so he dropped his hands back to his thighs. Nathan could feel his dick throbbing against the fly of his jeans by the time Charles broke the kiss and leaned back to look in his eyes._

 _"I'm very careful in everything I do with you Nathan. I know that I can be…thorough, but I'm also precise. I try very much not to...ah...harm you, but you make that more difficult if I have to worry that you'll cause harm to yourself. Do you understand?"_

 _"Yeah…I get it. I can do it, okay?"_

 _Charles stood up and then Nathan felt a hand press more firmly against one side of his face. He closed his eyes and an instant later came the impact that split his bottom lip on the other side._

 _Charles was very precise._

…..

Now he only made Nathan wear it once in a while. Because he hated it. He hadn't lied about that, only about the reason why. He didn't care about the taste, or the drool that ran out and mixed with his blood, or even not being able to clench his jaws and muffle the noises he made – the reason Charles had put it on him in the first place. He hated wearing it now when he was unchained. It made him feel…itchy, to be on all fours on top of Charles, slobbering everywhere like one of those nasty big dogs and wanting to just reach up and pull the stupid thing off. He didn't though and he never would 'cause Charles loved it.

" _Every second you keep it on it takes an act of will on your part, I love that you find it so humiliating but you do it for me anyway."_

He really would do anything for Charles. He'd thought at first that letting the other man chain him up and beat him had really been something. Looking back now, he hadn't even started to truly appreciate his manager until he'd learned his lesson with the bit.

…..

Charles had told him over and over to stop trying to stifle himself when he was getting hit with the belt. Nathan didn't mind the hitting, but if he didn't close his mouth and growl he started to sound fucking breathy, womanly.

" _You're holding back because you're self-conscious. I'm the one exerting myself and I deserve to not only see, but also to hear the results of my effort."_

Even though he reminded Nathan that he'd hurt himself if he tried to bite down on the round piece of steel in his mouth, the time had come when he'd done it anyway and ended up breaking off one of his top incisors. The pain had been fucking unbearable, not only because of the headache, but his eyeball on that side had felt like a giant was trying to drive a rail road spike through it.

Charles had refused to let him see their dentist for two days; the first day he'd let Nathan lay in bed getting drunk and stoned, but on the second day he'd told the singer to get Dethklok in the studio and get to work. It was so fucking brutal. He'd spent the hours alternately fighting the urge to puke, cry, or pass out and he'd almost collapsed before he made it back to his bed feeling like some crazy warrior-king who'd survived the day on a bloodied battlefield. Later he'd ended up making a song from it.

When Charles had come in with three Vicodin and pressed his lips to Nathan's forehead he'd felt like he was plunging into a bottomless pit. He wasn't even sure a feeling that strong was supposed to be called love; maybe he worshipped Charles or something - like he was Nathan's very own high priest of brutality. He hadn't had the strength to show him that day so he'd been left with nothing but the inadequate words.

"I fucking love you. So much."

  



End file.
